


The proselyte to sanity

by harnatano (orphan_account)



Series: We are anathema [3]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: maglor isn't a pure cinnamon roll, the feanorians and the 7 deadly sins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 09:04:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4131871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/harnatano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maglor's pride can be slightly destructive.<br/>Part of the work about the Feanorians and the 7 Deadly Sins.</p><p>English isn't my first language, please forgive the grammar and spelling mistakes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The proselyte to sanity

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from 4.48 Psychosis, Sarah Kane.

Maglor was reading, observing the twins with a soft smile on his lips. Little Elrond was running after his brother who was vainly trying to escape and when the first one finally caught his twin, they both fell on the grass in a cascade of laughters.  
"I'm faster that you are!" Elrond claimed, his little arms wrapped around his brother's waist. "I'll always be faster than you!"  
"That's not true, I can be fast too!" Struggling in his brother's embrace, Elros reached out to take off a leaf from Elrond's hair. "Your hair is so messy!"  
Giggling, Elrond released his twin and sat before him. "Yours is worse!"

His smile widening, Maglor returned to his book and tried to focus on it despite the giggles the twins were joyfully sharing. 

A few minutes later, they were both calmer, one of them braiding his brother's hair clumsily as the other's voice echoed in sweet notes. Maglor frowned, unable to recognize the melody – a beautiful melody, but not one of his. Leaving his book aside, he stood up and walked to them, and as he got closer, the song became clearer, Elros' voice echoing softly around them. Maglor sat next to Elrond and without a word, he started to help him with his brother's hair, gathering a few black strands into a new braid. Such beautiful dark hair...

"What are you singing, Elros?" He finally asked after a few seconds. His voice was colder than he had planned, but the notes were now dancing in his mind, filling it with confusion.  
Elros shrugged but Elrond replied in his place. "It's a song we heard the other day. One of the guards was singing it and we found it beautiful."  
Unsettled, Maglor kept his eyes on Elros' hair, his fingers playing softly between the locks. "And do you know where this song comes from? Did you ask him?"  
"Of course we asked!" Elrond nodded happily. "But I don't remember the name..."  
The second twin stopped singing and slitghtly turned his head to gaze at his brother, pursing his lips and furrowing his brows as he tried to remember. "It was a weird name... Dae... Daaaa..."  
"Daeron!" Elrond exclaimed and clapped his hands happily. "He said it was one of Daeron"s songs!"  
His hands frozing between the strands, Maglor swallowed the frustrating ache that was burning in his throat. "Daeron..." He repeated in a murmur.  
Elrond looked eagerly at Maglor, a wide smile on his lips as Elros started to sing again. "Do you know him? The guard said he was famous for his beautiful songs!"

The Noldo nodded slightly, but the words were blocked in the back of his throat, bitter words that seemed to poisoned his tongue and his mind, burning his lungs with a fire he couldn't control. Of course he did know the name and the reputation of Daeron. His music was so often compared to his, despite their huge differencies. Of course Maglor had paid attention to Daeron's pieces, to the lyrics, the melodies, the way the notes were dancing and swirling, revealing nothing but beauty and the promises of a new spring. But Maglor hated Daeron's music. The minstrel was good, that was fact, but his music was nothing compared to his. It lacked fierce, it lacked passion and truth. Daeron's music was a promise, Maglor's music was an accomplishment. 

He remembered the words Nelyo had said so many years before, in Himring. "You should at least listen to it, Kano. It's very different from what you do, I assure you it's worth the attention." Maglor had refused, determined to keep this ministrel off his life. Although he had always be fond of new sort of melodies, open to influences that could make his own music better, he couldn't accept the existence of someone who would be better than him. This Sinda couldn't be better than him. No one, safe Eru, could make a better music. "Kano... Don't take it personally." Nelyo had said again. But he had taken it personally, it was personal, it was an attack on his field, his lands. The lands of the invisible, where notes and lyrics were dancing and melding to reach hearts and fill minds with all kind of emotions. There were words, they were pages written about Daeron's skills, and everyone in Beleriand seemed to admit Daeron was better. How could he not take it personally?  
If they'd met, the Sindar would have cried, Maglor was sure of that. He would have made him fall and cry and beg for him to stop, for his songs would have ruined him. And Maglor wouldn't have stopped, he would have let his music roll over Daeron, sending him into a cold abyss of despair and-- 

"Uncle...?" Elrond called softly, nervosity clear in his voice. "Did I say something bad?"  
Leaving his bitter thoughts for later, Maglor shook his head and gave the child a smile that was all but happy. He finished the braid in Elros' hair and stood up, swallowing back another wave of anger and bitterness. "Could you promise me one thing? Both of you?" He asked with a voice which he tried to keep soft – yet there was undeniably something of a command in it. Observing him with wide eyes, the twins nodded eagerly. "Do not sing this song again, do not sing any of Daeron's songs. Can you do that for me?"  
Elros gazed at his brother, confused, unsure of what to do, and Elrond found nothing to do but frowning. "Why?"  
"Because there are many other beautiful melodies that you could sing." Maglor simply replied, unwilling to go further in his explanations. He knew he could be rather cold and stern with the twins sometimes. He hated that, but couldn't help it.

"A-Alright..." Elros nodded, and there was a cheer sadness in his voice. Elrond nodded too, and they both stood up to follow the Noldo.  
"Good. Now let's go back inside." Leading the walk, Maglor kept his eyes on the ground, thoughts rushing to his minds, a few notes from Daeron's songs assaulting his heart and filling it with darkness. He knew it was wrong, he knew he shouldn't forbid the twins to sing. The rivers of Doriath were running in their veins, Daeron's songs were parts of their legacy, part of their history. But he couldn't let it happen, he couldn't let them replace his songs, his lullabies with Daeron's. Daeron knew nothing of life, of pain, of blood. His songs were sweet but they weren't telling the truth... Maglor knew the truth and how skillfully he could express it in his songs. They were reflecting the fate of Arda, the fate of the Eldar, of his people. Daeron's music with the blossoming of the flowers in the sunlight, it was harmonious and regular and soft like the morning light on the hills. Maglor's notes were deeper, flying like the snowflakes on the Gap, like the raindrops on his brothers' lifeless bodies, like the last sparks of his father's agony. Maglor's hamornies reflected the cries of the battlefields, the war cries and the cries of pain, they were the calm before the storm and the storm itself raising from the north to swallow his people and the light his father had created. As it was played, his music was rolling through the air like waves of blood and tears on the white shores of Alqualondë, like the flames that were consuming his soul. His music was the cry of Arda, the whines of the Eldar, the lament of his people. There was nothing of this in Daeron's songs. Just beauty. Sheer and enchanting, but where was the intensity? Where was the passion? 

Tugging his tunic, Elros called for him again, and Maglor came back to reality despite the lingering ache in his heart. "Are you angry at us?"  
It had happened again, he had frightened the twins. That was not what he wanted, that was not what was supposed to happen. But he was slowly realizing how cold he might look in that moment, the dark glint in his eyes and the nervous movement of his upper lip reflecting the madness which was already echoing in his voice. "I'm not angry." He replied as softly as he could but he knew it was pointless. "Why don't you sing one of the songs I taught you?"  
Elros glanced at his brother who was walking right behind them and they both obeyed.  
Hearing his song, the Noldo smiled, but there was no tenderness, no amusement, not even a spark of joy in this smile. Only pride and a sick satisfaction. His song. His music. That was the only thing that would save him from his own madness – at least, that's what he thought – and the only thing he would allow them to sing. The twins didn't need anything else, for his music was the only one that mattered. The only one that could reflect the world, teach them about the world and keep them safe from the world. 

And from himself.


End file.
